


Steps Forward

by Foureyed_Pufferfish



Series: With All We've Lost [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Other, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foureyed_Pufferfish/pseuds/Foureyed_Pufferfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As close as they are, they've never done this.  Optimus and Ratchet take their friendship to a more intimate level.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steps Forward

**Author's Note:**

> This story exists within my With All We've Lost AU some time into the not yet posted Linchpin. At this point Ratchet has regained some mobility but is still partially paraplegic. 
> 
> Title is subject to change.

Optimus ran a finger lightly up the center of his companion's pede, watching with gentle curiosity. "Can you feel that?" 

Ratchet hummed, "tickles." He sat propped up on his elbows on his berth, Optimus crouching at the end of it. A smile flickered over the Prime's features and he placed a kiss to the tip of the medic's pede, where his finger had left the metal tingling. Ratchet watched, expression blank but soft as his friend climbed up onto the berth, knees on either side of his waist, to plant as kiss to Ratchet's lips. A moment of hesitation and the medic leaned into the touch. Optimus' lips where soft, if somewhat scratched on his bottom lip where he had a habit of chewing when thinking. Ratchet nibbled gentle at the scrapes, exploring their texture, before running his glossa over the area, soothing. His berthmate returned the gesture, delving into Ratchet's mouth with a force the medic had not expected. Ratchet pulled back, startled.

Joints creaking, Optimus sat back on his thighs, careful not to crush Ratchet's legs beneath him. "We do not have to go any further if you don't want to." He kept his hands planted in his lap, though he desperately wanted to touch. 

Ratchet shook his helm, a smile finally appearing on his lips. "You just startled me." He reached forward, grabbing Optimus' shoulder for leverage, and pulled himself up. His lips found Optimus' in a quick kiss before he settled back again. "I want to go further."

The Prime nodded, returning the chase kiss, allowing this one to linger for only a moment longer. "How far?"

"Other than sparks, as far as you want to go." Ratchet sighed as Optimus ran a hand down his back and up again. The Prime worked his delicate fingers along the break in Ratchet's back, carefully soothing the tension in the cables there, and straightening wires as he went. With the hand that was not holding him up, the medic skimmed his fingers over his companion's finials, rubbing behind them in a similarly soothing manner. Optimus leaned into the touch with a grateful sigh.

"I am not ready to share sparks, but I would enjoy your valve?" Optimus' features tightened in worry at his own wording. He prayed that statement did not portray a more selfish intent. 

With a genuine chuckle, Ratchet pulled the Prime's helm down to nuzzle his chevron against the others crest. "I would enjoy your spike, then." He dragged Optimus on top of him as he lay back on the berth. The bed was nearly too small for them to lie side by side but with the Prime hovering over him, both fit safely. "Understand though, if we do this again, I'm not always a valve mech. I'll want to spike you too."

If Prime could blush he would have, fiercely. "I always thought you more of a spike mech. If you wish to switch, we can." He took a moment to enjoy the view he had above Ratchet. Even if they switched roles, this was likely to be the only position they could comfortable couple in, as Ratchet had little to no strength in his legs and a fragile back-strut, and thus could not take a leading role. That fact didn't bother either of them much, however.

"Oh, so you've thought about my spike before?" Ratchet teased, smiling cheekily. His grin only grew when Optimus punched him playfully in the chest. The hit was so soft it hardly registered.

"Only when you were examining mine." Optimus quipped back. His hand came to rest on Ratchet's chest, over his spark, and he felt it thrum beneath his palm. The steady pulse was not as much of a reassurance of the medic's well being as he had hoped. Instead the greatest comfort came from the gentle and oh so familiar teasing.

Ratchet smacked back at that comment, a little harder, but nowhere near enough to do any real damage. "That is strictly professional and you know it." A quick glance down at Optimus' hand and the soft smile the Prime was giving him, and Ratchet was pulling him down into a kiss. This time both melted into it. Optimus rumbled deeply when Ratchet resumed nibbling on his lower lip. A hand, gentle as ever, stroked over Optimus' sides and down to his waist. Ratchet cupped his panel, running his fingers teasingly along the seams before his hand darted down one of the Prime's thighs. Optimus groaned into the kiss, pulling back to gasp at the teasing touches. Ratchet chuckled, glancing between the two of them to watch his hand dance over his companion's plating. With each sweep of his palm he paused to allow his fingers to sneak into seams. 

Optimus dropped his head into Ratchet's shoulder, careful not to upset the medic's delicate balance on his one hand. “I won't be able to keep that shut long if you keep doing that,” he breathed as Ratchet's fingers danced over his interface panel again. 

“That's kind of the point.” Ratchet pressed more firmly on the metal. The click of locks unlatching was his reward. Optimus sat back pulling himself out of the medic's reach. His panel remained closed.

“I wanted to prepare you some first,” he slid down the berth with a parting kiss on Ratchet's chest plates. “Are you even sure you have enough sensation for this to be enjoyable?” He rested a hand on Ratchet's thigh, as if waiting for permission.

The older mech nodded. “Yes.”

Optimus dipped his helm down, running both hands over Ratchet's warm plating, not yet touching his panel. “Yes?”

Ratchet pushed himself up higher to watch Optimus between his thighs. “I may have-” he paused, looking for the right words, “tested some earlier this week.”

Optimus peaked over Ratchet's chassis, quirking an optic. “And how did you fair?” He didn't wait for an answer before returning his attentions to a seam on Ratchet's left leg, just below the apex of this thighs. The medic gasped, wanting desperately to roll into that touch, but knowing he could not without quickly exhausting himself. 

“It was over embarrassingly quickly,” the medic muttered. Optimus smirked and finally ran his glossa over Ratchet's interface panel. The metal cover unlocked with a snick. Prime grinned, watching the panel slide back. Ratchet's spike immediately pressurized, flagging proudly in the air. A single red stripe ran along the bottom, breaking up the white plating surrounding it. The sensory channels glowed faintly with charge. Below, his valve was flush and eager. Lubricant already beaded on the swollen lips, as the synthetic mesh pulsed in a gentle, aroused rhythm. Optimus ran a single finger around the rim, pausing at the sensitive nod at the top. Ratchet shuttered, lying back down of the berth to cover his face with his arms. 

A moment of hesitation and Optimus leaned forward, placing the tip of his glossa at Ratchet's entrance. The medic gasped, arching. Prime pushed further until he managed to slip past the first ring of taught calipers. Immediately Ratchet's valve relaxed, welcoming and open. A finger slid in along side the Prime's glossa, pressing down on the mesh and stretching out any tension that remained. 

“You seem ready?” His tone flicked up at the end, turning what he intended to be a statement into a rather uncertain question.

Ratchet huffed through the plating on his arms. “Please. I am.” Optimus rumbled a laugh and with a parting swipe to Ratchet's spike, stood and clambered back onto the berth. His panel slid open, revealing his own spike. It was primarily a deep silver with dark gray rivets along the sides. The bumps would provide a subtle yet pleasant increase in friction to both the Prime and his partner. Along the top edge of the spike ran a deep blue series of plates. 

Optimus fidgeted nervously under Ratchet's intense gaze. The medic cupped the spike with a smile up at his partner. With one slow pump to the shaft he guided Optimus down to his valve, helping to press the head of the spike into himself. Once the wet heat registered on the tip of the Prime's spike he jerked forward, burying the head fully. He gasped, panting, but managed to still himself to make sure Ratchet was alright. The medic had his optics clamped shut and head thrown back, the same enthralled expression Optimus had spread across his features. 

“More,” he breathed, chest heaving as he fought to pull cool air into his systems. Optimus pushed forward, slowly this time, until his pelvis met Ratchet's. A gentle roll of his hips led to another until he had a steady rhythm of thrusts established and Ratchet was biting the back of his hand, fighting not to cry out. Optimus groaned throughout each thrust in, gasping in air as he withdrew. Ratchet clung around him, calipers grasping at his spike, sending sparks through the sensory channels every time one of Ratchet's internal nodes made contact. 

Ratchet's face scrunched up, mouth pulling up in an almost grimace. A breath, almost silent. “Ow.”

Optimus froze, spike burred to the hilt, daring not to move. “What's wrong? Too fast?” He ran a glance over Ratchet, checking for any injuries. “Should I withdraw?”

The medic arched his back, placing a arm under the small of his spine. “No, no, you're fine,” he reassured, smiling apolitically. “Just my back.” He shifted his hips as best he could, trying to get Optimus to move again.

The Prime remained stubbornly still. “What would help?” 

Ratchet sighed, looking somewhere between peeved and embarrassed. “A pillow?” He offered, glancing about his meager hab-suit. The pillows he normally kept for when his back ached during recharge were conveniently missing. “Frag,” he muttered, “I left them in medibay.” He ran a hand over his face, pinching at his nasal bridge. “Doesn't matter. I'm fine. Please, continue.”

To his utter dismay, Optimus pulled out, reaching to the night stand for a towel. He wiped off his spike of Ratchet's fluids as well as any that had managed to get on his thighs. The shaft vanished into his pelvis with a snick. “I'll grab them, be right back.” Ratchet groaned, wanting to protest but knowing staying silent was the fastest way to get Optimus back into him. So instead he lay back and watched the Prime leave, staring resolutely at the closed door once he'd vanished.

Not two minutes later, Prime was back, carrying an armful of autobot sized pillows and Ratchet's quilt. He set the quilt at the foot of the berth and helped Ratchet to sit up some so he could slide a cushion under the small of his back. The medic sighed, the tension in his back-strut easing some. Optimus resumed his place between Ratchet's spread thighs.

“Anyone see you?” The medic groaned as his companion's spike slid back into his too wet valve. Optimus' tenor joined him as he resumed the rhythm they established before. 

“Arcee is on monitor duty but I don't think she looked.” He leaned down to snag a kiss. Ratchet returned it eagerly, catching Optimus' lips in a series of brief pecks. “Is your back better?”

“Yes,” Ratchet breathed between kisses. “Please don't stop again.”

Optimus' responding chuckle morphed into a throaty groan as he burred his face in Ratchet's shoulder. The medic took advantage of the position to run both hands along Optimus' helm and finials, rolling his hips as much as he could to meet Optimus' gentle thrusts. The Prime jerked at the touch to his audios. “Not sure how much longer I'll last,” he breathed. 

Ratchet smiled into the Prime's audio. “Then let go,” he whispered, “don't hold back.” And Optimus didn't. His thrusts stuttered as he lost rhythm, becoming short a shallow as he burred himself deeper with every motion. Ratchet gasped at the feeling of the Prime's large spike butting up against the end of his valve. He reached a hand between them to grasp at his own spike, giving a few long stokes as Optimus grunted into his shoulder. 

The Prime came almost silently, hips stilling as he spilled himself into Ratchet, transfluid pulsing against the medic's closed gestation chamber. Little gasps and the feeling of hot fluid were Ratchet's only indication of Optimus' climax. He pulled roughly at his own spike, feeling the tension coil and twist. When Optimus exhaled and made to pull out a breathless whisper from Ratchet stopped him. “Hold still.”

Optimus watched with rapt attention as Ratchet brought himself to overload, valve pulsing around Optimus' still seated spike. The medic's optics clamped shut as he shivered, groaning and gasping. When the orgasm ended he was left shaking beneath Optimus, tremors rattling his plating. A grin spread across his lips as Optimus leaned down to kiss him, withdrawing with a huff of air through his vents.

The medic groped blindly for the cloth on his nightstand and quickly cleaned both himself and his prime of any fluids. Their panels shut as Optimus settled down next to his companion. The prime buried his face in Ratchet's shoulder, breathing in the scent of ozone and hot metal. Ratchet laughed, the sound rich and bight. “That was good.” He grinned at Optimus as the larger mech pulled him closer. 

“I'm glad,” the prime rumbled into Ratchet neck. He glanced up, stretching out for a quick kiss. “You and I should have talked about this along time ago.”

Ratchet ran a hand over the younger mech's helm. “This was talking?”

“Mmmm, perhaps not,” Optimus conceded. “Though we should do it more often none the less.”

A chuckle and Ratchet heaved himself onto his side to better curl around his berthmate. Optimus cupped an arm behind his shoulders to support him and entangled his legs with Ratchet's. “I'm not adverse to a repeat,” Ratchet agreed. “Though we do need to talk.”

“We will,” Optimus assured. “In the morning.” 

Ratchet hummed, tightening his hold on Optimus' back. “In the morning.”


End file.
